Participation and University Teaching in La Paz: An Urban Diagnosis Through a ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’

Abstract

This article presents the results of a participatory urban diagnosis conducted in District 2 of La Paz, Bolivia, as part of an educational cooperation project aimed at exploring the spatial and symbolic dimensions of urban insecurity. Drawing on feminist and intersectional frameworks, this research combined participatory action methods, digital surveys, and collective mapping to identify patterns of fear and exclusion in public space. The analysis revealed significant disparities in how insecurity is perceived and experienced by different social groups—especially women, Indigenous peoples, and LGTBQ+ individuals—highlighting the importance of spatial configuration, social presence, and care infrastructure in shaping everyday urban life. The project also served as a pedagogical innovation, integrating architecture students into a process of civic engagement and co-production of knowledge. The resulting ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ contributed to local planning efforts through the “Seguras, No Valientes” initiative. While the limited representation of some groups restricts statistical generalization, the approach offers a replicable model for linking research, education, and public action in pursuit of more inclusive and safer cities.

1. Introduction

The ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ project in District 2 of La Paz (Bolivia) was developed during the 2021/22 academic year as an inter-university teaching innovation and collaborative research initiative. It emerged within the framework of the Master’s Degree in International Development Cooperation at the University of Valladolid (Spain), in close cooperation with three Bolivian universities: Universidad Católica Boliviana ‘San Pablo,’ Universidad Privada de Bolivia, and Universidad del Valle La Paz. The project stemmed from a shared conviction: that urban planning must place citizen participation—especially the voices of historically marginalized groups—at the core of any agenda for democratic, inclusive, and sustainable urban development.

Bolivia is notable in Latin America for having adopted an early and progressive legal framework that promotes citizen participation and decentralization. The 1994 Popular Participation Law (Ley de Participación Popular, No. 1551) enshrined the right to community involvement in urban planning, budgeting, and development oversight [1]. However, despite this legal foundation, participatory practices in urban development remain fragmented and are often hindered by structural barriers such as political clientelism, weak deliberative mechanisms, and enduring social inequalities [2,3,4]. As a result, participatory urbanism—with its emphasis on co-design, spatial justice, and the right to the city—has not yet been fully developed in practice [5,6]. These limitations are also reflected in architectural education, where academic curricula continue to focus primarily on formal design, leaving little space for critical pedagogy or the integration of citizen perspectives [7,8,9].

This disconnect between academic training and urban realities underscores the need to explore new teaching approaches rooted in community-based research and engagement. Citizen participation is now widely recognized as a cornerstone of contemporary urban planning, essential not only for enriching urban design but also for legitimizing planning processes and promoting social justice [10,11,12,13].

Crucially, any effort to democratize the production of urban space must be approached through a gender lens. A gender perspective brings visibility to diverse civic voices and challenges patriarchal structures that continue to shape urban development. It also validates everyday experience and emotional knowledge as critical sources of insight [14,15]. Within this framework, Feminist Participatory Action Research (FPAR) offers a particularly valuable approach, as it centers the lived experiences and epistemologies of women and marginalized groups while emphasizing relationality, reciprocity, and care in the research process [16].

In the Latin American context, the intersection of gender and citizen participation acquires a particularly political character. Deep-rooted structural inequalities linked to gender, class, and ethnicity continue to hinder women’s participation in formal decision-making spaces, despite their long-standing leadership in defending territory and shaping daily urban life [17].

In response, the project presented in this article designed and implemented a participatory urban diagnosis focused on mapping perceptions of insecurity in District 2 of La Paz, with particular attention to the experiences of historically marginalized communities. Based on tools such as collective mapping, digital surveys, and field observation, the resulting Map of Gender Insecurity aimed to reveal both material deficiencies (e.g., infrastructure, lighting, and visibility) and symbolic or affective perceptions (e.g., fear, avoidance, and spatial stigma).

This study is guided by two core research questions: 1. How do different social groups—such as women, men, LGBTQ+ individuals, and indigenous people—experience and spatialize perceptions of insecurity in the urban space of District 2 in La Paz? 2. What spatial, symbolic, and environmental factors contribute to the construction of urban fear, and how can participatory diagnostics help uncover and address these dynamics?

Although the primary focus of this article is the participatory diagnosis itself, the initiative was embedded within a broader educational framework that significantly shaped its methodology. The project was implemented through a series of theory–practice workshops and field-based activities grounded in service-learning and project-based learning approaches. These pedagogical models emphasize experiential learning as a means of fostering critical thinking, civic engagement, and social responsibility [18,19,20,21]. In recent years, service-learning has become a widely adopted methodology for linking academic training with local social needs, particularly in contexts of urban inequality and informality [22,23].

While this educational dimension is not the object of analysis, it served as an enabling structure for the participatory process—contributing to its depth, legitimacy, and civic value. In this sense, the initiative brings together multiple dimensions—gender-sensitive urban analysis, academic formation, inter-institutional collaboration, and collective knowledge production—through which the findings aim to contribute to ongoing scholarly debates.

2. Project Context: Institutions, Territory, and Participants

The ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ project was developed during the 2021–2022 academic year as part of the Master’s Degree in International Development Cooperation at the University of Valladolid (Spain). It was conceived as an educational innovation that combined learning participatory methodologies in urban contexts with the practical experience of a collaborative territorial diagnosis in La Paz, Bolivia. The initiative was inspired by the “Mapa del Miedo-Valladolid” project, launched in 2017 by the Valladolid City Council in collaboration with the University of Valladolid and various social organizations [24]. That pioneering experience—focused on spatially visualizing perceived insecurity among women—served as both a conceptual and methodological reference for adapting participatory mapping tools to the Latin American context, with attention to local socio-cultural and urban specificities.

The project in La Paz was also integrated into the “Seguras, No Valientes” municipal initiative, funded by Swiss cooperation through the PADEM program (“Programa de Apoyo a la Democracia Municipal”) and Solidar Suiza within the challenge “Mi municipio lo puede hacer major”. This initiative seeks to promote more inclusive, accessible, and safe urban environments for women and girls by strengthening municipal policies with a gender perspective1. As such, the academic experience not only served pedagogical and training purposes but also contributed concrete outputs to the participatory design of gender-sensitive urban diagnostics—aligning with broader public policy efforts in the city.

From the outset, the project was conceived as a joint venture between European and Bolivian academic institutions, working in close coordination with public bodies, neighborhood associations, community-based organizations, and professionals. The goal was to create a socially engaged and context-sensitive mechanism for experiential learning, civic empowerment, and territorial co-diagnosis. This collaborative framework was not only logistical but methodological: a core element of the participatory design process.

The project’s intervention site—District 2 of the Central Macro-District of La Paz—is a densely populated area (356 inhabitants per hectare) with high urban dynamism but some spatial inequalities (Figure 1). Covering 2.7 km², it includes neighborhoods with diverse morphologies, income levels, and access to services. While it concentrates important political, cultural, and financial infrastructure, it also exhibits significant deficits in safety, mobility, and the equitable distribution of public space. According to the 2018 Macro-District Report, the district had 31.8 m² of public space per capita and only 7.3 m² of green areas per resident. Over 333,000 daily trips were recorded, 80% of which used public transport, 15% by walking, and the rest by private vehicle or bicycle [26]. These urban conditions, combined with active community dynamics and a strong presence of informal settlements, made District 2 a particularly relevant site for applying participatory and feminist spatial methodologies.

The project brought together a multi-sectoral, inter-institutional alliance that included four universities (University of Valladolid, Universidad Católica Boliviana ‘San Pablo’, Universidad Privada de Bolivia, and Universidad del Valle La Paz), public officials from the Sub-Mayor’s Office of the Central Macro-District, and a range of local organizations and professionals. This horizontal and distributed network was essential to building a dialogical and context-grounded process. While the University of Valladolid led the methodological design, Bolivian universities played a central role in adapting pedagogical strategies to the local reality. The implementation involved students, professors, researchers, gender experts, urban planners, and community facilitators working as part of interdisciplinary teams.

Grassroots organizations with experience in feminist and participatory urbanism—such as “Pachakamani”, “Paisaje Caminante”, and “Movimiento Propacha”—were key allies in structuring and executing the fieldwork. Their collaboration enriched the critical dimension of the project and ensured meaningful community engagement. Local experts in architecture, planning, anthropology, and heritage contributed further rigor and cultural relevance to the intervention.

A technical partner, the “LabTecnosocial Collective”, supported the project with the development of digital tools and the management of georeferenced participatory data. This technological layer allowed the translation of community knowledge into cartographic outputs usable by both citizens and local governments.

Far from being a one-directional transfer of knowledge, the project evolved as a space of co-construction, where multiple actors contributed from their respective trajectories, epistemologies, and practices. Together, they worked toward a shared goal: to strengthen civic capacities and rethink architectural education from an inclusive, participatory, and socially committed perspective.

3. Materials and Methods

3.1. Methodological Approach

This study adopts a participatory action research (PAR) approach, understood as a collaborative and transformative methodological strategy in which participants—in this case, students, instructors, professionals, and local actors—co-construct knowledge with the goal of critically engaging with reality [27,28,29]. This methodological choice reflects both the pedagogical nature of the project and its political and territorial dimensions, as it integrates training in architecture and urbanism with concrete practices of citizen participation.

Simultaneously, the project is grounded in the principles of project-based learning (PBL) and situated learning [30], which anchor theoretical university content in a real-life urban diagnosis experience in Municipal District 2 of La Paz, Bolivia. This methodological combination made it possible to integrate the educational dimension, inter-institutional collaboration, and participatory territorial action into a collaborative, reflective, and transformative process [31,32].

3.2. Phases and Analytical Instruments

The implementation of the participatory urban diagnosis was structured into three interrelated methodological phases: (1) theoretical–practical training; (2) participatory fieldwork; and (3) systematization and feedback. Although proposed in a logical and chronological sequence, in practice, the process was dynamic, marked by constant feedback between territorial experience, collective learning, and methodological adjustments made to adapt to contextual conditions. Flexibility and adaptability were therefore key operational principles, in line with the participatory and experimental nature of the project.

3.2.1. Phase I: Theoretical–Practical Training Workshops

The first stage of the project focused on the methodological and conceptual preparation of the participating team, particularly the students. An interdisciplinary training program was designed to strengthen analytical, technical, and ethical capacities necessary to intervene in complex urban contexts from a critical, contextualized, and gender-sensitive perspective. The group consisted of 30 students: 10 from U.C.B, 10 from the U.V, and 10 from U.P.B.

The training involved four intensive, in-person, and participatory workshop sessions held at Univalle’s facilities, which provided the best overall accessibility. These sessions combined theoretical lectures, experiential exercises, analysis of previous experiences, and dialogue with institutional actors (Figure 2).

The first session centered on introspection and collective memory, based on the assumption that any territorial intervention must begin with a reflective understanding of one’s own positionality. Through sensory exercises, personal memory evocation, and group sharing, participants explored how their trajectories, imaginaries, and emotions shape their view of urban space. This introspective approach was key to fostering openness and empathy in the fieldwork.

The second session addressed gender-sensitive urbanism, a central focus of the project. Theoretical inputs on spatial inequalities, symbolic violence, and inclusive urban design were combined with group exercises to identify potential insecurity points based on women’s everyday experiences. This session directly bridged to the ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ methodology, later applied in District 2.

The third session was devoted to the principles of citizen participation and training in social research tools. From a critical perspective, students explored the ethical and methodological challenges of working with communities, analyzed real cases, and developed practical skills in tools such as surveys, interviews, and stakeholder sociograms. This session solidified the understanding of urban diagnosis as a collective process, repositioning the role of the researcher as a facilitator.

The fourth session had a more institutional and political character. A dialogue was held with the Citizen Security Department of the Municipal Government, attended also by neighborhood representatives from District 2. This exchange was key to understanding the official framework of urban security management and comparing it with community perceptions and demands. It opened a communication channel that remained active throughout the rest of the project.

Overall, these training workshops were not only instrumental in preparing participants but also fundamental for building a shared ethics, trust, and reference frameworks—essential conditions for carrying out a truly participatory and transformative territorial process.

3.2.2. Phase II: Fieldwork and Participatory Process

The second phase involved the territorial implementation of the participatory urban diagnosis in District 2 of La Paz. This stage combined qualitative research techniques with participatory tools and was carried out through exploratory walks, interviews, and collaborative mapping exercises (Figure 3).

The fieldwork began with a direct observation and technical recording session aimed at producing an initial environmental and functional diagnosis. Six mixed teams composed of students from the three universities systematically surveyed different sectors of District 2 using a previously designed observation matrix. This tool considered variables such as type and use of public spaces, accessibility conditions, lighting, urban infrastructure, environmental quality, pedestrian flows, street furniture, and signage. Emphasis was placed on morphological configurations and spatial occupation patterns, as well as the identification of potentially problematic or underused areas. This observation was complemented by informal interviews and short walks informed by spontaneous interactions with users of public spaces. In parallel, a pilot test was conducted for the digital survey tool.

The two collective mapping sessions formed the methodological core of the fieldwork. Public tents were set up, displaying schematic maps of the district (using the ‘Big Map’ technique) to collaboratively identify problems, resources, and key urban relationships. Residents used drawings, keywords, symbols, and color markers to locate problematic zones, reference points, daily routes, and valued or avoided spaces. This exercise not only enabled the expression of complex perceptions in an accessible and visual format but also encouraged collective dialogue, shared territorial narratives, and critical reading of the urban environment, especially in terms of safety, accessibility, mobility, and care.

Another key tool was the digital survey, collectively designed by the academic team and administered semi-structurally by the students themselves (https://ee.kobotoolbox.org/x/fIuGiaMd (accessed on 19 August 2025)). The survey collected data on space usage, mobility, access to services, and perceptions of neighborhood centralities. It included both closed and open-ended questions, allowing for the combination of quantifiable data with rich qualitative insights, particularly regarding emotions, perceptions, and narratives linked to the territory. One of the tool’s strengths was the inclusion of gender-sensitive questions, which revealed distinct patterns in how women, men, and gender-diverse individuals experience public space. Designed for mobile devices using accessible platforms and georeferenced maps, the survey ensured portability, automated systematization, and streamlined analysis. Acknowledging the technological limitations in some areas, a semi-assisted format was adopted, whereby trained students guided participants through the process in person. This hybrid format—digital and face-to-face—ensured accessibility and clarity, while strengthening trust and interpersonal connection during data collection.

The selection of respondents followed a non-probabilistic, purposive sampling strategy, focused on obtaining a diverse range of perspectives across gender, age, and socio-spatial backgrounds. Participants were recruited during collective mapping activities, through neighborhood organizations, and in strategic public spaces across District 2. This approach prioritized inclusivity and accessibility, particularly seeking to amplify the voices of women, gender-diverse individuals, and elderly residents—groups often underrepresented in formal participatory processes. While this method enriched the data with contextual and situated knowledge, it also introduced certain limitations in terms of representativeness, which are acknowledged in the discussion section. Nonetheless, the goal was not statistical generalization but a deeper understanding of the lived experiences of insecurity and urban space through participatory engagement.

3.2.3. Phase III: Systematization, Analysis, and Feedback

The final phase focused on organizing, analyzing, and communicating the data collected through the participatory process, and returning the results to both community participants and institutional stakeholders (Figure 4). The systematization combined qualitative, visual, and statistical approaches, organizing the data into thematic categories that reflected key spatial and social issues: insecurity, spatial fragmentation, lack of services, and the absence of community meeting spaces.

A set of synthesis maps was created, integrating the outcomes of the collaborative mapping workshops, digital surveys, and field records. These maps aimed to represent not only physical conditions but also symbolic, emotional, and narrative dimensions of urban insecurity. The maps were complemented by visual and narrative documents that illustrated the main findings. Importantly, these were not conceived as definitive outputs but rather as open tools for discussion, validation, and shared planning.

The final ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ is primarily based on the results of the participatory mapping sessions, during which residents collectively identified key danger zones, underused spaces, and symbolic territories. However, georeferenced data from the digital survey were also used to refine the spatial interpretation of recurrent concerns and validate overlapping perceptions. Although the survey data allowed spatial tagging of responses, the cartographic synthesis emphasized the value of collective, place-based narratives over purely quantitative distribution.

This hybrid approach—bridging participatory cartography and survey-based spatial data—prioritized local knowledge, intersubjective experience, and collaborative meaning-making. It contributed to constructing a multi-layered territorial reading, which informed both the academic analysis and institutional dialogue.

Ultimately, the participatory diagnosis of District 2 laid the groundwork for a subsequent Action Plan to be developed through the “Seguras, No Valientes” initiative, funded by Swiss cooperation via PADEM under the challenge “Mi Municipio lo Puede Hacer Mejor”.

In terms of quantitative analysis, the digital survey data were first processed using descriptive statistical methods to identify overall patterns of insecurity perception, violence types, and spatial conditions. Responses were subsequently disaggregated by key identity variables—gender, sexual orientation, and Indigenous identification—following an intersectional approach. This disaggregated analysis allowed for the comparison of trends across different social groups, revealing differentiated risk factors and spatial experiences. Results were expressed in terms of absolute frequencies and relative percentages and were later cross-referenced with qualitative insights from the participatory mapping and workshop sessions. While some subgroups had limited representation, their inclusion contributed to a broader, politically informed interpretation of urban fear and spatial injustice.

4. Results

4.1. Participatory Urban Diagnosis: Factors of Insecurity and Territorial Perception

The diagnosis process carried out in District 2 of the Central Macro-District of La Paz enabled the collection, comparison, and analysis of a wide variety of quantitative and qualitative data. This was achieved through the implementation of an open digital survey, participatory workshops, collective mapping exercises, technical walks, and community feedback sessions. The use of this range of data collection and analysis tools allowed not only for the identification of conflictive zones but also for an understanding of the material, social, and symbolic conditions that shape such perceptions.

A total of 364 valid surveys were processed, 197 of which corresponded to residents or frequent visitors of the district. This empirical base served to analyze how perceptions of insecurity are constructed in urban space. Regarding the sociodemographic characteristics of the respondents (

Table 1. Sociodemographic characteristics of survey respondents (n = 197). The authors.

	Category	Frequency	%
Gender	Female	117	59.4
	Male	80	40.6
	Other/Prefer not to say	0	0.0
Age	Under 18 years	10	5.1
	18–25 years	78	39.6
	26–40 years	38	19.3
	41–60 years	61	31.0
	Over 60 years	10	5.1
Occupation	Student	76	38.6
	Employed	87	44.2
	Unemployed	10	5.1
	Unpaid care work/Homemaker	9	4.6
	Retired	8	4.1
	Other/Prefer not to say	7	3.6
Indigenous Identity	Identifies as Indigenous—Aymara	10	5.1
	Identifies as Indigenous—Quechua	1	0.5
	Identifies as Indigenous—Other	1	0.5
	Does not identify as Indigenous	185	93.9
Sexual orientation	Heterosexual	178	90.4
	LGTBI+ community	11	5.6
	Other	4	2.0
	Prefer not to say	4	2.0

), most were young adults (average age: 34.9 years), with a predominance of women (59%). In terms of occupation, most were either employed (44%) or students (40%), reinforcing the idea that study and work environments within the district are significant in shaping perceptions of safety.

From a quantitative standpoint, one of the most consistent findings was that 59% of respondents reported feeling unsafe when moving through District 2. The most dangerous times were reported as nighttime and early morning, followed by late afternoon to evening—periods typically associated with a lack of lighting, reduced street activity, and visual barriers. The main factors identified as generators of insecurity included, firstly, the absence of commercial or social activity (mentioned by 27%), followed by poor public lighting (23%), and the presence of physical or visual barriers such as walls, dumpsters, or enclosed facilities (12%). Other recurring issues included deteriorated sidewalks and roads, a lack of urban signage, and the presence of homeless individuals or people with substance abuse problems. While these elements may not be directly linked to crime, they significantly affect subjective perceptions of safety (Figure 5).

Regarding perceived violence, the main forms were theft (over 40%), intimidation (19%), verbal aggression, physical aggression, sexual harassment, and fear of crossing certain streets. Notably, 30 individuals reported having experienced robbery, intimidation, or assaults while alone in public spaces.

4.2. Identity-Based Patterns of Insecurity

While the representativeness of certain identity groups within the sample is low—or, in some cases, nonexistent—and therefore not statistically significant, their inclusion nonetheless offers a valuable approximation of broader patterns and emerging trends. The disaggregated analysis of the digital surveys revealed notable differences in the perception of insecurity among various social groups, particularly in relation to gender, sexual orientation, and Indigenous identity. This intersectional approach made it possible to highlight how diverse social identities not only face different risks in public space but also shape and experience insecurity in distinct ways.

When asked whether they generally felt unsafe moving through District 2, participants’ responses revealed significant disparities. As shown in

Table 2. Distribution of reported feelings of insecurity in public space by gender, sexual orientation, and indigenous identity. The authors.

	Feelings of Insecurity	Total of Participants	% of Participants Feeling Insecure
Female	70	98	71.4%
Female + LGTBQ+	4	7	57.1%
Female + Indigenous	5	6	83.3%
Female + LGTBQ+ + Indigenous	1	1	100%
Female + Other/Prefer not to say	3	5	60%
Male	27	70	3.6%
Male + LGTBQ+	1	3	33.3%
Male + Indigenous	4	5	80%
Male + LGTBQ+ + Indigenous	-	-	-
Male + Other/Prefer not to say	1	2	50%

, 71.4% of women declared feeling unsafe, compared to 38.6% of men. The perception of insecurity was particularly acute among Indigenous women (83.3%), and participants who simultaneously identified as female, Indigenous, and LGBTQ+ (100%). Similarly, Indigenous men (80%) reported high insecurity rates, contrasting with lower figures among non-Indigenous men. These findings indicate that experiences of fear are not distributed uniformly but shaped by intersecting social identities that influence one’s exposure to risk and access to safe public space.

Beyond the general sense of insecurity, the survey explored what spatial and environmental conditions contribute most to the perception of unsafety (

Table 3. Triggers and spatial conditions contributing to perceived insecurity by social group. The authors.

	Female	Female + LGTBQ+ or Other	Female + Indigenous	Male	Male + LGTBQ+ or Other	Male + Indigenous
Lack of public lighting	62.96%	100%	50%	41.18%	0	50%
Poor visibility (see and seeing)	31.48%	0	25%	23.53%	0	0
Absence of people or commercial activity	62.96%	100%	25%	64.71%	100%	0
Parks and gardens	27.78%	0	0	23.58%	0	0
Limiting barriers (fences, walls, walkways, etc.)	18.52%	0	0	11.76%		0
Others	Lack of road safety for pedestrians Presence of people with alcohol or drug problems Existence of alleys Absence of police presence Lack of signage			Presence of establishments selling alcohol Presence of people with alcoholism or drug addiction problems Presence of criminals

). Among female respondents, the most frequently cited factors were lack of public lighting (62.96%), absence of people or commercial activity (62.96%), and poor visibility (31.48%). These indicators were even more pronounced among women who identified as LGBTQ+ or Indigenous, for whom 100% highlighted the first two factors.

Male respondents expressed similar concerns, though with lower frequencies. A total of 64.71% of men noted the absence of social activity as a key issue, while 41.18% cited insufficient lighting. Male Indigenous respondents mirrored the concerns of women regarding lighting and isolation.

These data show that insecurity is closely tied to the absence of social life and the physical discontinuities of the urban environment, confirming the value of a gender-sensitive reading of public space.

In addition to the primary spatial triggers—such as poor lighting, low visibility, or lack of commercial activity—several participants identified additional context-specific factors grouped under ‘Other’. For women, these included the absence of pedestrian safety infrastructure, the presence of people with substance abuse issues, poor signage, narrow alleyways, and a lack of visible police presence. These factors reflect not only spatial deficiencies but also a sense of institutional neglect that heightens vulnerability.

Male respondents, in contrast, emphasized the presence of alcohol-selling establishments, public intoxication, and criminal activity, highlighting a perception of risk linked more to potential aggressors than to environmental neglect.

These qualitative inputs reveal that feelings of insecurity are shaped not just by physical space but also by symbolic cues, social abandonment, and institutional absence, all of which vary significantly across social groups.

The survey also examined the types of experiences or threats that contribute most to individual feelings of fear (

Table 4. Perceived types of violence in public space disaggregated by gender, sexual orientation, and indigenous identity. The authors.

	Female	Female + LGTBQ+ or Other	Female + Indigenous	Male	Male + LGTBQ+ or Other	Male + Indigenous
Physical assault	11.32%	0	0	18.75%	0	0
Sexual harassment	13.21%	0	0	0	0	0
Verbal aggression	5.66%	0	75%	6.25%	0	50%
Crossing the street/run over	9.43%	0	0	0	0	0
Intimidation	20.75%	0	0	18.75%	0	0
Robbery	39.62%	100%	25%	56.25%	100%	100%

). Among women, the most commonly reported concerns were robbery (39.62%), intimidation (20.75%), and sexual harassment (13.21%). These forms of aggression often occurred in poorly lit or unpopulated areas and were compounded by symbolic dimensions of exclusion or vulnerability.

Men, in contrast, identified robbery (56.25%) and physical assault (18.75%) as the primary sources of fear. Indigenous respondents of both genders emphasized verbal aggression as a central issue, suggesting a layer of symbolic violence that accompanies their presence in urban space.

These patterns reinforce the idea that perceptions of insecurity stem from both material risks and subjective, embodied experiences, which vary depending on one’s social position and identity.

Finally, participants were asked what urban features or policies might improve their sense of safety (

Table 5. Urban features that could improve perceived safety by social group. The authors.

	Female	Female + LGTBQ+ or Other	Female + Indigenous	Male	Male + LGTBQ+ or Other	Male + Indigenous
Public Lighting	81.63%	70%	75%	77.14%	80%	40%
Traffic lights and traffic calming elements	76.53%	60%	100%	64.29%	60%	60%
More space on sidewalks and active mobility lanes (bike and skates)	71.43%	40%	75%	64.29%	80%	80%
Zebra crossings nearby and with good visibility	71.43%	50%	100%	60%	60%	60%
Signage and orientation	66.33%	50%	75%	60%	80%	60%
Existence of green areas	53.06%	60%	100%	51.43%	60%	60%
Heritage and symbolic elements	42.86%	50%	75%	35.71%	40%	80%
Limiting barriers (fences, walls, railings, walkways, etc.)	44.90%	60%	50%	48.57%	60%	80%
Cleaning and maintenance of spaces and urban furniture elements	80.61%	80%	100%	71.43%	60%	60%
Existence of shops and activities on the ground floors	54.08%	70%	100%	65.71%	80%	20%
Existence of passive spaces (parking lots, garage entrances, alleys, etc.)	43.88%	60%	25%	54.29%	40%	40%

). Women prioritized public lighting (81.63%), traffic-calming infrastructure (76.53%), and cleanliness and maintenance of public spaces (80.61%). Among Indigenous women, support for improvements was unanimous across almost all categories, especially for green areas, pedestrian crossings, and active commercial façades. Notably, both Indigenous women and men expressed a higher valuation of cultural heritage and symbolic urban elements—such as monuments, murals, or historical references—as factors that positively influence their perception of safety, suggesting a strong link between identity, memory, and spatial security.

Men also cited lighting (77.14%) and the presence of ground-floor businesses (65.71%) as safety-enhancing features. Interestingly, respondents identifying as LGBTQ+ often expressed preferences similar to women, particularly regarding visibility and the presence of social activity.

These responses point to a shared demand for more active, accessible, and well-maintained public spaces while also showing how marginalized groups articulate additional priorities based on their everyday experiences and vulnerabilities.

4.3. Spatial Categorization and Participatory Cartography

On a qualitative level, results from collective mapping and participatory workshops revealed how physical conditions intersect with symbolic and emotional dimensions. The maps created during the sessions produced spatial categories grounded in everyday experience:

• ‘Dark places’: poorly lit, visually fragmented, with minimal activity or surveillance.
• ‘Areas to pass through quickly’ or ‘dead streets’: perceived as dangerous despite being central to daily routes.
• ‘Dangerous corners’: symbolic nodes of tension, often tied to specific memories or recurring incidents.

These descriptions point not only to objective deficiencies but also to a sensitive dimension of urban space, shaped by fear, memories of past incidents, or the circulation of shared narratives.

The participatory process enabled the development of several thematic maps, each focused on a specific aspect of insecurity:

• Physical characteristics map: identified areas with deteriorated infrastructure, low visibility, and environmental or building neglect. Poor sidewalk conditions, lack of lighting, and closed or underused spaces were common issues.
• Environmental conditions map: highlighted elements such as garbage accumulation, foul odors, overgrown vegetation, excessive noise, or visual pollution—seen as indicators of institutional neglect and urban risk.
• Mobility and routes map: revealed daily routes that are avoided, dangerous stairways, problematic intersections, and streets with heavy traffic. These spaces, often unavoidable for pedestrians, became actual ‘insecurity bottlenecks.’
• Use and appropriation map: contrasted areas perceived as protected (e.g., sports fields, active plazas, street fairs, etc.) with spaces without clear function or closed off by institutions (e.g., police stations, hospitals, stadiums, etc.), which contribute to urban fragmentation and disconnection.

The collective work demonstrated that insecurity factors do not act in isolation but overlap. Poorly lit areas with visual barriers and no social presence, for example, were systematically identified as particularly problematic. This overlap allowed the creation of a map of unsafe zones based on the density of such factors—a key tool for prioritizing future interventions.

4.4. Synthesis Mapping of Urban Insecurity

The final product of the participatory diagnosis process was a collaboratively produced insecurity map of District 2, which synthesized the diverse findings from digital surveys, collective mapping, interviews, and territorial observations (Figure 6). This spatial representation does not claim objectivity or statistical precision but rather offers a situated and politically informed reading of urban space from the perspective of its inhabitants.

Through the accumulation and layering of factors—both spatial and symbolic—participants were able to identify and collectively validate the areas perceived as most problematic. These included poorly lit streets, dead-end alleys, zones lacking commercial activity or pedestrian presence, and areas characterized by barriers such as walls, fences, or overgrown vegetation. These triggers of fear often overlapped with narratives of past incidents or collective imaginaries transmitted within the neighborhood.

The resulting map visualizes not only ‘hotspots’ of insecurity but also routes that are avoided, emotionally charged zones, and nodes of opportunity for reclaiming or transforming space. Critical points emerged in areas surrounding public infrastructure (such as stadiums, hospitals, or police buildings) that, despite their institutional presence, were perceived as opaque, inaccessible, or exclusionary.

The map is not intended as an objective or definitive representation of the territory but rather as a tool for social and political reading of urban space, bringing to light everyday violence and spatial inequalities from a citizen perspective. Its value lies in having been built through the mutual recognition of technical and popular knowledge, and in its usefulness as input for gender-sensitive, care-centered, and proximity-based urban planning.

5. Discussion: Urban Space, Gender, and Intersecting Vulnerabilities in Participatory Education

The findings of the participatory diagnosis in District 2 of La Paz confirm what feminist and critical urban studies have long emphasized: The experience of public space is not neutral but deeply shaped by gender, ethnicity, age, and sexual orientation, as well as by structural inequalities and symbolic hierarchies that manifest in spatial configurations and social norms [33,34,35]. Fear in the urban environment—especially among women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and Indigenous residents—emerges not only from direct experiences of violence but also from a collective perception of risk rooted in both material conditions and cultural constructions of territory.

The disaggregated analysis of survey data revealed significant variations in how different social groups perceive insecurity. While women overall reported higher levels of fear (71.4%), the rate increased substantially among Indigenous women (83.3%) and those identifying with more than one axis of marginalization (e.g., Indigenous + LGBTQ+, 100%). Among men, the general perception of insecurity was lower (38.6%), though Indigenous men also reported elevated levels (80%). These divergences underscore the need for urban analysis that recognizes and makes visible how multiple identities intersect to shape urban experience.

Moreover, the triggers of insecurity varied not only in intensity but also in nature across groups. While women highlighted poor lighting, the absence of commercial activity, and lack of visibility, Indigenous respondents emphasized symbolic aspects such as the absence of cultural markers or community reference points. LGBTQ+ participants, though fewer in number, emphasized social threats—such as discrimination, substance abuse, or exclusion—rather than just spatial factors. This heterogeneity calls for planning approaches that move beyond universalist notions of ‘safety’ and embrace differentiated and context-sensitive responses.

These insights also reinforce the idea that urban insecurity is not reducible to crime statistics or isolated incidents. As in previous studies [36,37], perceived safety is shaped by a constellation of spatial, emotional, and institutional factors. Physical neglect (e.g., broken sidewalks, garbage accumulation, etc.), lack of lighting and signage, and the presence of opaque or fragmented urban edges all compound the experience of fear. Conversely, areas perceived as safe tend to exhibit continuous activity, good maintenance, proximity to services, and symbolic or cultural visibility—especially valued by Indigenous respondents.

Methodologically, this project built upon the experience of the “Mapa del Miedo” (Fear Map) in Valladolid (Spain), where women collaboratively identified areas perceived as dangerous (https://www10.ava.es/portalva/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=427d25467a764f2d9c0c287d3fc3b314 (accessed on 19 August 2025)). However, the La Paz case expanded this approach by integrating environmental, symbolic, and social dimensions and placing greater emphasis on intergenerational and intercultural dialogue. In this sense, it demonstrated the importance of embedding participatory urbanism in localized, reflexive, and inclusive frameworks.

Crucially, the process in La Paz was not only diagnostic but also pedagogical. Developed within a university cooperation project, it operated simultaneously as a research-action initiative and an educational experience. This dual nature made it possible to test teaching models grounded in territory-based learning, collaborative knowledge production, and situated research methods [38,39]. Students were not passive observers but active co-researchers—facilitating surveys, interpreting data, and engaging with community actors—thus embodying a role of facilitators rather than detached experts [40,41].

This contributes to a broader rethinking of architectural and urbanist education. In recent years, multiple experiences in Latin America and elsewhere have sought to bridge the gap between academic training and urban reality, especially by engaging students in processes of citizen participation, co-design, and social cartography [42,43]. This project aligns with those efforts, suggesting that pedagogical innovation and urban justice are mutually reinforcing. The development of a ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ not only yielded relevant planning insights but also fostered a model of expanded education—capable of building critical awareness, civic agency, and collective imagination for safer and more inclusive cities.

6. Conclusions

The ‘Map of Gender Insecurity’ project in District 2 of La Paz offers valuable contributions to the fields of gender-sensitive urbanism, participatory diagnostics, and socially engaged pedagogy. The experience demonstrated how participatory research methods, combined with feminist and intersectional perspectives, can make visible everyday spatial injustices and contribute to more inclusive urban knowledge production.

One of the most relevant outcomes was the possibility to identify significant differences in how insecurity is perceived and experienced by distinct social groups. Women, Indigenous populations, and LGTBQ+ individuals reported higher levels of fear and emphasized distinct triggers—such as the absence of lighting, pedestrian infrastructure, or social presence. These divergences highlight the necessity of intersectional approaches in urban planning and security policies, which are often built upon neutral or universalized assumptions that overlook the differentiated vulnerabilities of marginalized communities.

From a community perspective, the participatory process fostered meaningful local engagement and empowered residents to critically reflect on their environments. The diagnosis served as both a technical and symbolic tool to articulate claims, identify priorities, and influence municipal planning through its integration into the “Seguras, No Valientes” program. By establishing a platform for dialogue between citizens, public officials, and academic actors, the project contributed to building civic capacities and strengthening the legitimacy of local governance structures.

From an academic standpoint, the initiative functioned as a testbed for pedagogical innovation. It helped bridge the gap between university education and real-world urban challenges by adopting a model that combines critical pedagogy, feminist research, and inter-institutional cooperation. This experience reinforced the value of transdisciplinary teaching that is embedded in territory, socially responsive, and oriented toward public transformation.

However, the study is not without limitations. Firstly, the representativeness of some social groups—especially Indigenous and LGTBQ+ subgroups—was low, limiting the statistical generalization of the findings. Nevertheless, the inclusion of these voices, even in smaller numbers, helped to shape a more nuanced and politically aware understanding of urban insecurity. Secondly, the specific institutional and territorial context of La Paz—particularly the openness of local actors and alignment with broader gender policies—played a key role in enabling the project’s implementation. This context may not be replicable elsewhere without substantial adaptations. Another limitation concerns the final insecurity map (Figure 6), which does not disaggregate responses by gender or other identities. Although the digital survey responses were georeferenced, the map was primarily built upon collaborative mapping exercises conducted with community members. This choice privileged symbolic expression and collective interpretation over strictly quantitative spatial analysis. Future applications of the methodology could incorporate layers of geospatial disaggregation or visualization gradation to enrich technical accuracy without losing the participatory essence of the tool.

Despite these constraints, the project offers a replicable methodological model for integrating education, research, and civic action. It contributes to expanding current theoretical frameworks on urban fear, participatory planning, and feminist pedagogy. The combination of spatial analysis, intersectional data disaggregation, and community-based co-production of knowledge can inspire future initiatives seeking to democratize urban design and reshape architectural education.

Ultimately, the project highlights that perception of insecurity in the city is not only a matter of safety but also of visibility, voice, and power. Addressing it requires transforming both the urban environment and the ways we learn to engage with it.